


Trouble Finds Me Easily

by navaan



Category: 1872 (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Cap_Ironman Holiday Gift Exchange 2015, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Rogers finds Tony Stark sleeping outside the sheriff's office and drags him home. Because he’s trying to keep the streets clean and people safe, not because he’s worried about Stark at all or anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Finds Me Easily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vibraniumstark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/gifts).



The horses were getting impatient now that they were getting closer and closer to Timely. They knew they were close to home and rest. Beside him Bucky laughed. “It’s like she wants to be in her stable as much as I want to be back at home with Natasha, getting some well earned rest.”

Steve grinned, looking over at his deputy’s temperamental brown mare. “She’s had enough for today. And you just want to be with Natasha. That’s why you married her. No need to blame it on the horse, Bucky.”

His friend and deputy laughed and hearing him sound this carefree after the things they’d just gone through was a relief. 

It hadn’t been an easy day for both of them. There had been a fistfight down at the mine that had turned nasty and after they had been called out to a farm right on the edge of Timely that had been ransacked. What had been left of it pointed at Indians as the culprits, but Steve really couldn’t point his finger on why he felt that something about that wasn’t right — he just knew he wasn’t convinced.

By the time they finally rode back into Timely they were both covered in dust and sweat and grime and bone dead tired. The bruise on his jaw hurt and the only thing he wanted was to wash some of the dirt off and get some sleep. It was dark already, but the light from the saloon was lighting up the whole street and loud noise and music would be keeping up the neighbors for some time yet. Steve felt like he was tired enough to drop into bed without it even bothering him at this point. 

Apparently he had been staring at the saloon in contemplation too long, because Bucky sighed: “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow. You’ll want to check in there, before you get some rest.”

“What?”

“You go check the saloon and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bucky was already sliding out of his saddle and reaching for the reins of Steve’s own horse. “It’s alright, go.”

“Why would I check if everything is alright over there now? Don’t you think I had enough trouble for one day?”

“Maybe,” Bucky told him with a bright grin. “Maybe you just didn’t meet the right kind of trouble today. Yet. And you miss it. There’s still time. Believe me, it makes all the difference, the right kind of trouble. I know what I’m talking about. Mine’s waiting at home.” He winked.

Steve regarded Bucky for a moment longer, before he dismounted himself and led his horse towards the paddock close to the jail. He had no idea what his friend was implying. Surely he did not think he was sweet on one of the girls there. The only reason he’d set foot in the saloon recently was because Carol Danvers or Bruce Banner or even Bucky had insisted someone go in and drag Tony Stark home, before he did something he’d regret. “You’ve been at the heart of all the fights we got into for as long as I can remember. You don’t want to imply your lovely wife is the one who brought trouble to your life when it’s always found you very easily before you even met her?”

“You’re right she found me alright.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Don’t let her hear you’re saying this about her. She’ll be sad she married you.”

“That is because you don’t know her like I do, Steve,” Bucky said with a solemn expression. “She’s exactly the kind of trouble I’ve been looking for, but she was the one who found me first.”

“If you say so, Buck. I’ll have to take your word for it. You may want to head home now. You know, before you get into trouble with Natasha? I’ll take care of the horses. Say hello to that lovely wife of yours for me.”

His friend shrugged and then clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Steve.” He handed over the horse’s reins and started off waving a goodbye at Steve without looking back. “Mark my words, sheriff. You should not ignore what life is throwing at you. Check the saloon and don’t have a sleepless night. Losing sleep makes you a pain to be around.”

Steve had no idea what he was supposed to make of that sage advice and shook his head, patting Bucky’s mare on the strong neck. “It’s been a long day,” he muttered. “Don’t listen to him. We rest now.”

He tended to both horses before he finally made his way around the house back to the main street. Men were shouting in front of the saloon, there was laughter and the sound of erratic piano music. He _wasn’t_ thinking of Bucky’s words as he looked over. It was a sure bet to think that Stark would be over there, drinking himself under the table or arguing with someone until fists were flying. Last time he’d won so much at the poker table that someone had pulled a gun on him. He always found a way to get in trouble. And as he’d told the man repeatedly, it wasn’t any of his business if he wanted to waste his life like that and end up with a knife to his back before he’d upset the wrong people.

It was just a shame, because he knew that when he was clear headed and focused on his work, Tony Stark could build marvelous things. He’d seen it, whenever he’d been allowed into Stark’s place. 

Yes, it was a right out shame that the man had come to Timely to forget all the things he could do and instead revel in his hate for his own gifts.

Steve wasn’t going to pry. A man’s business was his own and if this was the way Tony Stark had chosen for himself, than there was nothing Steve could do about it.

“Trouble,” he mused out loud to himself as he stepped onto the porch, remembering Bucky’s words. He froze in his tracks in the darkness, as he realized that someone was sitting on his porch with his back to the door. In Timely sheriffs so far hadn’t had a long life expectancy. While he hadn’t done anything recently to challenge Fisk and his crew, it was always a good idea to be careful, especially at this time of night and after he’d interfered with the business of arguing stiff necks. He kept his hand on the revolver at his side and then froze up as he got closer. Thanks to the saloons big windows and doors there was still enough light on the street for him to get a glimpse of the form sitting on his porch fast asleep.

It was Stark. And he was out like a light.

“Stark?” He went down to crouch beside the sitting man and shook his shoulder lightly, a groan his only answer. “Stark? Come on wake up?”

He was used to finding Stark like this after a night of drinking in the saloon, but usually not on his own porch, right in front of the town jail. And he wasn’t even smelling of alcohol this time. After a short check-up he could say for sure that he wasn’t hurt either. He simply looked exhausted. “Stark?” he tried again.

“Steve,” the man groaned as he slowly came more awake. “Sheriff?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Built something,” he said. “Wanted to show you.”

“Really?” There was in fact a very distinctive smudge of something dark and grimy on the left side of his throat and he usually made at least sure he was clean and presentable before he went out to entertain the ladies over at the saloon. With a strong hand Steve helped him to his feet, but it seemed the man was still not really awake or at the very least about to just fall back asleep where he was standing. “I haven’t seen you around in days,” he muttered, suddenly remembering the ruckus that had been heard from Stark’s place yesterday. 

Banner had walked past and smiled at Steve when he’d looked at Stark’s door in consternation. “He’s working. That’s good. Leave him to it.”

He’d silently agreed, but at the same time had braced himself for explosions or having to rescue Stark from his burning house. 

“Have you eaten at all?”

“What?”

“Since you went into one of your moods. Did you eat something? I don’t think you even usually have bread around. Have you?”

“Bread?” Stark muttered as Steve started to drag him slowly and stumbling down the porch.

“The stuff you eat, Stark,” he said indignantly. “ Made from flour.” 

“You sound terribly Irish whenever you get angry,” Stark informed him in a slightly befuddled tone.

He sighed. “I’m not angry. You are just annoying.”

“Oh.” In the dim light Stark looked like he had no clue what to make of that straightforward statement. “Yeah. Right. Heard that one before. So I’m not going to sleep in a cell tonight to ‘dry out’ just so you can conveniently keep me around for my charming conversation?”

“Too much trouble and you’re not drunk, are you?”

Stark’s eyes widened a little. “Oh,” he said again and leaned heavily on Steve as he was dragged along. “No, not drunk at all.”

They reached Stark’s place without falling down and after the day he’d had Steve was thankful for small favors. The workshop was a mess and he had trouble navigating it in the dark, but simultaneously he did not want to let go of the man, because he had his doubts about him holding himself up on his own. The place smelled of heat and sweat and iron and it should have been unpleasant, but it reminded him of Stark having worked all day and that was actually a nice thought.

He found the unmade bed in the corner and helped his half-asleep companion to lie down. “You are nothing but trouble,” he said into the darkness with some authority, not even sure Stark was awake enough to still hear him. He light a lamp when he finally found it on the workshop table and surveyed the chaos around him. Metal parts in strange shapes were lying around, some looked like they had been repurposed from guns. There was a contraption that looked like a metal arm on the table and then his gaze fell on something that looked like a frightening metal face. 

It gave him pause as he stared at it. What _exactly_ had Stark been building here? A mask? Made of metal?

When he turned around the man was fast asleep again and would not be answering any questions tonight. There was no visible spot in the whole room that even looked like food could have been safely stored there and Stark had never bothered to install an appropriate hearth. There was a pan hanging right next to the fireplace and that was it. With a sigh, and feeling all the exhaustion of the day come back to him Steve sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

Tomorrow he’d make sure Stark got some food into himself. He could probably get something from Banner or even drag him over to Bucky’s place to eat. Some eggs to fry would be enough as long as he ate something.

He really shouldn’t even care, but he did.

As he leaned back, touching his back to Stark’s side as he lay there, the man rolled to the far corner as if he was making room, inviting him in.

Suddenly even the short walk over to his own place seemed like it was too much. And it was Stark, the troublemaker, who had forced him to be here in the first place. He owed him for that. He better not complain about this in the morning, Steve thought as he lay down, killing the light of the lamp he’d set down on the night stand.

“Nothing but trouble,” he muttered again to himself, his back touching Stark’s along the whole length of it and the warmth seeped into him immediately as if his own body had just been waiting for it.

“Hm,” Stark agreed from the other side of the bed.

Steve would never admit to it if asked, but he smiled in the darkness as he slowly drifted off, feeling much better here in the warm, stuffed room of Stark’s workshop, with the man safely tucked in, than he would have in the lonely cold, sheriff's office across the street.

Perhaps Bucky had something right about the right kind of trouble, he thought, as he finally fell asleep.


End file.
